Thankful For A Brother Like You
by morgana07
Summary: Dean discovers Sam is sick & hiding a secret after the events in 01x12,Faith & must struggle to help him recover before it's Sam's turn to face a Reaper. Sick/hurt/guilty!Sam & hurt but still big brother!Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Thankful For a Brother Like You**

**Summary: **_Still recovering from getting electrocuted then healed & dealing with a Reaper, Dean thinks his troubles are over until he learns that not all is well with Sam & he then must cope with a fevered, sick and exhausted little brother who has more wrong than just the common cold. / Sick/hurt/guilty!Sam & hurt but still big brother!Dean_

**Tags/Spoilers: **_This is tagged to 01x12: Faith. It happens after the end of the episode and will contain details for the episode so if you're new to the show be aware of this._

**Warnings: **I'm rating this one for language and some other things, including the use of OTC anti-sleep pills.

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own them. I just write, abuse and then heal the boys for the fun of it._

**Author Note: **_I originally planned this to be a 1-shot…a rather long 1-shot but a 1-shot. It's turning longer so I'm chaptering it. Please read, enjoy and feed the muse. Thanks!_

**Chapter 1**

"No, I know if you'd have known about Roy Le Grange that you wouldn't have given Sam the tip, Jefferson," Dean Winchester tried to reassure the older hunter over the phone while flipping through the TV channels in the motel room he and his younger brother Sam were sharing in the small Nebraska town that they'd come to in hopes of saving the older Winchester's life.

A week earlier he and Sam had been hunting a Rawhead that had been kidnapping little kids. They'd tracked the thing to a run down shack and while Sam had gotten the two kids out to safety Dean planned on frying the thing extra crispy with a taser set to 100,000 volts.

Good plan except for the part where he found himself getting electrocuted along with the Irish Hobgoblin thing and damaging his heart beyond repair. Learning that he only had a month to live shook Dean more than he was willing to show to his little brother who already appeared freaked out but he wasn't expecting when Sam said a friend and acquaintance of their Father's gave him the name of a specialist in Nebraska that it would turn out to be a blind faith healer operating out of a tent.

"Besides, the way I look at it we took care of something that would've turned nasty eventually and I'll still be sucking air in a couple weeks," Dean went on, tossing the remote on the other bed while touching a hand to the grayish colored hooded sweatshirt he'd been wearing while sick.

Dean barely recalled much after the first shock hit him in that shack. His next clear memory was of seeing Sam's huge eyes go pure puppy dog fearful as the doctors explain about the damage done to his heart. He'd stayed in that hospital for four days before checking out to learn that Sam had been driving himself half crazy trying to find doctors, specialists or something that would save him.

He'd known that his brother had been calling everyone both they and their Dad had ever known or worked with but right then he hadn't known just how bad it had been for him until some things Jefferson was saying began to hit him.

Still distracted by actually being healed, Dean had known right off that something wasn't right with it. Then it became obvious that every time Roy healed someone another person died. Learning that Roy's wife Sue Ellen had used binding magic to ensnare an actual Reaper of Death to heal people she chose while killing others she didn't approve of turned what had been a minor miracle into a case.

Now, after dealing with Sue Ellen when Sam broke the spell after she'd turned the Reaper on Dean, the case was over. Sue Ellen Le Grange was dead, a victim of the very Reaper she'd tried to control. Dean was still alive with all the tests saying his heart looked fine with no damage ever done to it. The only thing that still bothered him was that while he lived, the young woman they'd met, Layla, would die and he wasn't sure if it was a fair trade.

Sam was still a little manic, not wanting to let Dean do too much on his own or risk him overexerting in case it triggered something so that was why he found himself sitting in their room while Sam took their laundry to get it down before they split town.

Jefferson had called to check on them so that was what Dean was doing as he tried to relieve the man's guilt for sending them into something like they'd found. "Jeff, relax. I'm fine and Sam's…Jeff, what's Caleb doing with you?"

Deciding to finish packing so they could leave as soon as Sam got back, Dean was only half listening and half paying attention to what he was packing as he ran his tongue over his teeth while debating on telling his friend this. "Umm, you are aware that Caleb can't hunt Wendigos because with him being so skinny and so damn bald they usually mistake him for one of them and…well, let's just say it wasn't pretty the last time."

Smirking at the other voice that shouted at him over the phone, Dean was grabbing for Sam's hooded jacket that he rarely saw his brother without these days when something fell from the pocket that immediately caught his eye and made his blood chill. "Hey, Jeff? Put Caleb on the phone."

Sitting down on the edge of his brother's bed, Dean felt his chest ache which was his only real clue that he'd been hurt recently. Staring at the over the counter bottle he was looking at, he fisted it in his hand while trying to make sense as to why his level headed, always in control little brother would have meds to help him not sleep when he knew Sam wasn't sleeping well as it were.

"Hey, Ace, what's cooking? Besides you, that it?" Caleb was a long time friend of Dean's and around the same age so they'd hung out growing up while Caleb learned what he could from John Winchester.

"Cute, real cute," Dean rolled his eyes while hearing Jefferson shout in the back ground to watch what he said. "You've talked to Sam recently, right?" he asked, glancing to his watch and realizing that Sam should've been back by now.

A low snort was heard. "Who hasn't talked to the kid recently, Ace?" Caleb countered, still remembering the tone of Sam's voice the first time he called him and how much worse it seemed with every call since. "How is he anyway?"

"I'd say fine since we all know that Sam's the level headed one of us but…" Dean once again looked at the bottle in his hand. "How often did he call you?" he wanted to know, pocketing the pills while finishing tossing things into their duffels. "I mean…do you know how much he was sleeping?"

"Sleeping?" Caleb could have laughed at that since he'd picked up early on that Sam's obsessive need to heal or find a way to save Dean wasn't leaving much room for anything else but that. "Dean, this was Sam in pure manic obsessive overly hyper little brother 'Dean's hurt, John's no where to be found as usual, and it's up to him to save you' stage. I doubt if that kid's head has hit the pillows yet…much less closed his eyes for more than five minutes in order to make sure you were still alright," he replied, ignoring the looks Jefferson was shooting him.

While amused that Caleb still called Sam 'kid' when his brother towered over him even more than he did Dean, he shook his head. "Huh," he grunted, trying to recall the last time he could remember seeing Sam sleep and coming up blank since when Dean was sick he could blearily recall his brother sitting next to him every time he opened his eyes and now when he'd wake up during the night Sam would either be staring at the TV, his laptop or their Dad's journal.

Hearing Caleb make another thinly veiled joke about Dean's shocking thrill at the hands of the Rawhead and Jefferson yelling at the younger man, he was about to make another type of suggestion when he heard a beep come through.

Looking to see that it was from Sam's cell, he quickly put his friend on hold to take this call and was expecting to hear his little brother's voice on the other end but instead heard a much deeper, more gruff voice.

"Um…is this Dean?"

Instant flashes of concern, panic and anger hit Dean all at once as his fingers closed on the phone. "That depends on who the hell you are and what the hell you're doing with my brother's phone," he shot back, knowing Sam would never let someone call him unless he was either sick, hurt or otherwise unable to make the call himself. "Where's Sam?" he demanded.

"That's what he said his name was. My wife's taking care of him. I'm Scott, the owner of the Laundromat in town and your…brother, well, let's just say I've raised six kids and three grandkids long enough to know sick when I see it and this kid is sick," the man on the phone told him. "I stopped him from driving and he didn't want me calling 911 so asked me to call you instead. He said you'd know what to do."

Groaning silently, Dean was torn between slapping himself or slapping Sam when he got to him. "Yeah, just keep him there until I get to you," he sighed, writing the address down before going back to Caleb. "Hey, gotta go so you go blow up a Wendigo without letting it think you're its wife or something."

"Shut up, Ace," Caleb growled then noticed the edge to Dean's voice and knowing it. "Sam good?"

"Not sure yet," Dean admitted, grabbing his leather jacket when he noticed that Sam had taken the Impala which meant he'd need to walk to the laundry or call a cab. "I'll call later when I find out."

"Dean…" Caleb had known both Winchester brothers long enough that he could hazard a guess what probably had happened because and knew what Dean's first response would be now. "I know you and Sam still like to take on too much because Johnny taught you that being self efficient was key but…if the kid's sick or hurt too bad then do the smart thing and call Jim," he urged, hearing a reply but knowing that his friend would have to be desperate to asking for help…much like Sam had been and wondering how calm Dean would be to know just what else Sam had been considering to save him. "John needs shot," he decided while choosing to place one final call to his mentor's phone.

Mind whirling with scenarios, Dean made it the few blocks he needed to go while wondering what the hell was happening. He'd known by Sam's actions as of late that his little brother was trying to make up for what he felt was his fault for leaving Dean alone to face that Rawhead, then by getting them mixed up with that Reaper and making him feel bad about Layla.

Though the instincts that Dean had picked up raising Sam also warned him that something else was going on in that big head of his brother's and he still wasn't sure if he liked the implications of those pills or figuring out that Sam hadn't been sleeping as much as he should've been lately.

Stepping into the small Laundromat it didn't take him to find his brother or the massive mountain of a man who approached Dean. "You Dean?"

A quick look at the 6'6" man who weighed a little over three hundred pounds of solid muscle if Dean had to guess assured him that neither he nor Sam were in danger from him or the equally petite black haired woman who seemed to be kneeling on the floor clear in the back while talking as if soothing a small child and that made his nerves prickle.

"Yeah, I'm Dean," he held out a hand while keeping his eyes moving to check out the main room filled with older style washers and dryers. "Where's my brother and what happened to him?"

If the older man was surprised by the abrupt questions he didn't show it and he seemed to understand Dean's concern because he nodded toward the back. "Eva, my wife, noticed the boy right when he came in," he began quietly. "She was a nurse so she said he looked sick then the longer it went the more pale he got until he finally passed out. When he came to, he was fevered with chills, eyes are dilated for some reason like he's in shock and was just mumbling that he needed to get back to his brother. That he couldn't leave Dean alone too long cause he was sick but when I wanted to call the E-squad when he began vomiting he panicked and just gave me his phone. Said you'd take care of him," he slid a sideways look next to him and rubbed a hand over his red beard. "Didn't know he was sick, did ya, son?"

"No, I didn't," Dean's voice was tight as he stepped around a washer to lean on while looking down and with just a single glance knew what he was dealing with or at least some of it.

The worn hoodie that Sam had taken to wearing when sick or upset had been shed despite the chills wracking his body. Dean could see the sweat soaked hair before he even knelt down to try to look into hazel eyes that he already knew would be three times their normal size because when his brother was full blown sick he had puppy dog eye power to the Nth degree on top of the shock and exhaustion that he could read by just watching Sam's body movements.

The younger Winchester's fingers seemed to be moving restlessly over the rubbery black band he wore on one wrist, a band that they each had while his other arm was switching between rubbing his eyes like he would as a child when tired and fighting it and clutching his stomach against the cramps ravaging it.

"Hey, Sammy," he murmured, already placing a strong hand on what he was shocked to realized seemed to be a fragile shoulder even as Sam's head was jerking up at his voice. "Were we planning on telling me that you were getting sick anytime soon?"

Blinking past the haze that he couldn't seem to get out of his eyes, Sam stared toward the voice until it clicked and he reached automatically for his brother as if knowing a hand would be there to grip his in return. "De'n," he mumbled, blearily recalling the last few days and knowing deep down that he'd screwed up by letting himself get sick or at least by letting Dean find out about it. "You…sup…'posed to be…restin'," he got it out finally even though it took his brother a couple more minutes to translate the slurred and mumbled words into something he could understand.

Rocking back on his heels from where he'd knelt, Dean took a longer and better look at his younger sibling and knew this was more than just a common cold or not sleeping right. He'd seen some of these same symptoms in Sam when he'd been nineteen and into his second year of Stanford. He hadn't like them then and he didn't like it now.

"C'mon, little brother, let's get you on your feet and into the car," he decided, standing to take a better grasp of Sam's arm and again was shocked as how thin that arm seemed compared to just a few weeks ago before all this shit had happened. "Whoa, Sammy. Easy does it cause I don't want your face broke on top of whatever the hell else you've done to yourself."

Grateful for the strong hands that helped him get Sam to his feet, Dean took a couple moments to steady the younger man against a dryer so he could then gently grip both sides of Sam's face in his hands to lift it up for a better look and then blew out air between clenched teeth when he noticed the sunken eyes, how pale and clammy Sam's skin was in comparison to the heat radiating off of him. "Shit, what've you done, Sammy?" he asked of no one in particular but didn't seem surprised when the boy's eyes seemed to blink owlishly at him as if considering a reply then only a big brother's knowledge of Sam gave Dean the time to shift to one side while latching on when Sam went back down to throw up again.

"He'll need a hospital to fight the dehydration this vomiting is going to give him," the petite woman spoke from beside Dean while holding out a bottle of yellow liquid that he knew on instinct was Gatorade. "He's been sick awhile but he mumbled that so had you and he didn't want to bother you."

Remembering another time Sam had said something similar and had gotten sick without Dean's knowledge, he merely nodded but had already decided against a hospital because there was no way he could explain how his brother had gotten sick and if this was also the results of the pills in his pocket then he definitely knew he needed to keep Sam away from doctors. Especially since Sammy liked to talk in his sleep when sick and there was no way in Hell that Dean was explaining about Wendigos or water spirits to a bunch of doctors.

"Thanks. I was sick this past couple weeks so I didn't see him going down," he also decided against telling these people that he'd been dying and a faith healer using the powers of a Reaper saved his life.

Lightly rubbing his hand in the same soothing circles over Sam's back and shoulders as he had when he'd been a child, Dean felt his brother relaxing in his grip and knew he could at least get him as far as the Impala before dealing with the rest of this.

Hearing Sam mumble something between an apology for being sick and something that tore at Dean's heart because it was plain to him by this point that Sam's fever was making him confused and he didn't know where their Dad was.

"Sshh, Dad'll be home soon, Sammy," Dean was still amazed that he could pull that lie off with a steady voice as he briefly debated between the front or back seats then just as quickly chose to lay his little brother down in the back seat that he still remembered could fit Sam fully…at least it did before the kid hit that damn growth spurt. "You just stay here a second while I grab our stuff."

Taking a moment to catch his breath and look up to the darkening sky as if seeking some kind of help, he then went back inside to gather up the things that Sam had originally taken to be washed. "I appreciate you calling me and keeping an eye on him until I got here," he was reaching for his wallet when the owner shook his head.

"It wasn't any trouble and my wife went and did the clothes he'd started before he crashed," he waved the young hunter's attempt to pay away. "I knew a Winchester in 'Nam," he eyed Dean with a critical eye and if he caught the way that announcement caused him to tense he didn't let on. "You boys relation to a John Winchester?"

Trying not to swallow his tongue at this coincidence, Dean finally nodded. "He's our Dad," he admitted while not wanting the man to start asking too many questions that would've required more strength than Dean had right then to answer but the man only nodded.

"Yeah, that one looks like John so I kind of figured you might," he then smiled while holding out a hand to shake Dean's. "It looks like it's gonna be a bad storm so you boys better find a motel to hole up in until he's over this bug."

"Thanks, we'll probably do that," Dean smiled, shook the offered hand before getting behind the Impala's wheel with a final look in the backseat to be sure his brother was resting comfortably before putting the car in gear and heading out of town with hopes that it would be that simple.

Three hours later though Dean's confidence went into the gutter the moment Sam woke up in the back seat screaming, thrashing, and choking. "_Sonuvabitch_," he growled, jerking the car off the road before he wrecked it in his haste to get to his struggling and clearly frightened little brother. "Sammy!"

The rain had started shortly after they'd left the small Nebraska town in which they'd come to meet Roy and Sue Ellen Le Grange. Forty minutes later it had turned into a small downpour and now as Dean parked the car safely off the road and struggled against the whipping wind, blinding lightening and torrential rain to get out of the car and to the backseat, he'd wished they had found that motel.

"Sammy, calm down," he urged, ignoring the soaking rain as he fought past Sam's fears and confusion to get into the backseat because after years of handling Sam when he'd been fevered, sick and frightened Dean knew the only way to calm him down was to first get a hold of the kid before he hurt either himself or Dean. "Sam, stop it. It's me…it's Dean."

Struggling against the images of seeing his older brother lying lifeless in a puddle of water after getting shocked and thinking that he was dying on top of other images only Sam could see, the younger Winchester fought the sudden touch of strong hands as they tried to grab for him while all he wanted was to find his brother, to have him make the pain go away but knew it was too late. "De'n!" throat sore, words slurred from shock, illness and exhaustion, he tried to push past the offending arms of whoever was holding him until something seemed to click and he latched on to grasp one of the hands that had been laid on his chest. "De'n…don' die. Don' go…I'll save…ya…find some way…De'n!"

The shortened form of his name and the way Sam was clinging to his hand along with the tears streaking his fevered brother's face told Dean that this had been let go too long and it would take more than a couple days in a motel, some juice and aspirin to help Sam.

Dean had known the moment he had taken a good look at Sam and seen how blown his eyes were and how weak he was that on top of the illness that he'd picked up somewhere that staying awake for who knows how long by taking those damn pills had caused the kid to crash in a way that he hadn't seen since Sam had been younger…and then in Stanford when he hadn't even known Dean was around to witness that mess.

Finally getting a better grip on his sick brother, Dean was able to card his fingers back through sweat soaked hair and felt the fever had gotten worse since he'd last checked and swore violently while softly whispering to Sam who had started to curl up against the pain he was in.

Dean had been taking care of his little brother since the moment he'd first seen him after their Mom and Dad had brought the chubby baby home. He'd sworn after the fire to keep him safe and had tried to do just that over the years. He'd always been thankful to have Sam as a brother since he couldn't picture his life without his pain in the ass little brother.

Now as he realized just how bad Sam had gotten while trying to save him, Dean heard Caleb's words echoing in his head and bit his lip. He knew a hospital was out of the question since he could never be sure when Sam would have a vision or say the wrong thing. Caleb and Jefferson were hunting a Wendigo in Minnesota. He had no clue where in the hell their own Dad was hiding himself.

Considering their present location, the time it would take if he pushed the Impala and himself to their already stretched limits, Dean blew out a breath that bordered on defeat because he knew he needed more help for Sam this time then he could give.

Glad his phone was in his jacket pocket and not in the front seat, he moved one hand cautiously away from where he'd had it lain flat on Sam's still heaving and obviously congested chest to flip open his phone, staring at a number before finally hitting the speed dial button then merely waited three rings to hear it picked up by a cautious voice on the other end who would clearly be surprised to hear from him since Dean knew he normally hated to ask for help.

"Pastor Jim? It's…Dean. I…Sammy…we need your help."

**TBC**

**Author Note II: **_Okay, this was meant to be a 1-shot but it decided to switch itself into a short Chapter tale. Stay tuned for more as Dean struggles to get help for Sam and learns that this isn't the first time his little brother had gone without sleep and more._


	2. Chapter 2

**Thankful For a Brother Like You**

**Chapter 2**

"_Pastor Jim? It's…Dean. I…Sammy…we need your help."_

The late night phone call hadn't surprised him since he'd gotten used to those over the years in both his occupations. The request for help also hadn't come as a surprise since as both a Pastor and a hunter he'd often been asked to give aid, shelter, food and much more to those needy souls who sought him out.

What did surprise Jim Murphy when he recognized the phone number on his Caller ID was the quietness of the voice that asked him for his help.

He'd known that eventually he'd be getting a call from one of the Winchesters as soon as he'd talked to Jefferson the other day and by the tone of voice Sam had when he last spoke with the boy but he honestly hadn't been expecting to pick up his phone to hear Dean asking for help in the same hesitant, unsure voice he'd used back when he'd been a teenager and his little brother had been hurt.

Fully awake by this point and having taken the time to pinpoint the boys location, Jim knew about how long he had to prepare even though he could only guess what he was preparing for.

Jim Murphy had been a man of the Lord before he became a hunter of the supernatural, of the weird and sometimes even of the undead. These days he tended to stick closer to his roots in Blue Earth, Montana so he could still do his weekly sermon but he still clearly recalled the days when he'd go around the country hunting things and it had been on one such trip that he literally tripped over a new to the game hunter by the name of John Winchester.

He'd read the man easily enough. He had the raw talent and drive to be a successful hunter but Jim had also learned two other things about John that night. He was clearly obsessed with finding what had killed his wife and he was driving around the country doing so with his two young sons in the back seat of that 1967 black Chevy Impala.

"Stubborn Winchesters," he muttered with a small smile as he also remembered his fondness for the two boys were often the only thing that kept him from turning his back on John a few times. This time from what he'd been hearing of John's escapades it might be harder not to though right then Jim's number one concern was helping Dean and Sam.

He'd just finished preparing the one larger guest room downstairs of his home since from the noise in the background of Dean's call and how tired the older Winchester still sounded that it wouldn't be wise to try to get either of them upstairs.

Laying fresh towels out while finding the big medical kit, Jim had just turned the bed down and lit a fire in the stone fireplace of that room when he heard the unforgettable sound of that same Chevy Impala he'd heard the first time he'd met John.

Grabbing a coat before he went out the door, the Pastor turned hunter was glad it had quit raining and snowing that morning since he did not want to handle two sick Winchesters. 'Been there, done that,' he thought to himself, stepping off the final step and was halfway to the car when he saw Dean exit the car. That was when he knew he'd woefully underestimated this situation.

Dean had always been the strong one. The one of John's sons that followed every order or directive given without question…or at least very few questions and he was the one who covered up bruises, wounds or injuries the best so the moment Jim noticed him leaning into the car as if in support he knew that no matter how healed his heart might have gotten the boy was still sick himself but willing to cover it for his brother's sake.

"Hey, Pastor Jim," he threw a wave as if just noticing the older man then made a quick move to catch the back door of the Impala before it was slammed open. "Hey, you hurt this car and after I make sure you're well again I'm making you detail her," he snapped, barely avoiding the blindly thrown fist then dove inside as if fighting to control someone and in same way Jim guessed he was.

Hurrying the rest of the way to the Impala, Jim saw a scene that wasn't totally unfamiliar to him since he'd broken up several scuffles between the Winchester brothers when they'd been younger. This time though it was plain that Dean was actually struggling to restrain his fevered brother since it was now much harder to hold onto Sam since he was four inches taller than his older brother and wiry.

"You…let go…" Sam mumbled, struggling to get out of the car but in his haste to escape whatever was in his mind he allowed the strong grip holding him to slip around his neck in a modified choke hold but instead of feeling the grip tighten enough to choke him he felt long cool fingers push back his hair.

"Yeah, I'll let go the moment you stop trying to kill us both," Dean shot back, grabbing for the hand that was moving to reach back to poke or hit and pressing under his against Sam's heaving chest. "We're at Pastor Jim's, Sammy and Jim's gonna ground your ass for acting like a brat if you don't stop this crap."

Lifting a brow at that comment, Jim went around to the open door to lean in. "Need a hand, Dean?" he asked casually, managing to keep the shock off his face when he not only noticed how tired Dean still seemed but how bad Sam looked and knew by the way he was fighting that his fever was way too high for aspirin to help. "How bad?"

"When I talked to you…ugh…he was really fevered but since then it's spiked and twice I had to stop until I got him calmed down but this time…he's really freaking out," Dean wasn't quite quick enough to dodge the open handed slap that struck him in the temple and had to fight to remember that Sam was too sick and tired to know who he was with right then. "Want the full story now or…Sammy, I love you but if you hit me one more damn time…"

"Get offa me," Sam snapped then blinked at the feel of a different hand catching his twisting head to lift it up while a bright light flashed in one eye. "Hey!"

"No concussion but his pupils are blown," Jim wasn't sure he liked that but chose to handle that later as he reached in with a much stronger grip than most people expected out of him to take hold of one of Sam's flailing arms. "Come on out of there, Sam. Time to get you in the house and start getting this fever down. Sam? Do you know where you are?" he asked louder than usual to be sure he was heard. "Do you know who I am?"

The new voice managed to slow the fevered young hunter down as he blinked a few times to gaze at the older man before a glimmer of recognition hit him. "Pastor…Jim," he mumbled, suddenly tired and just wanted his brother before he slept. "I…don' feel so good…Sir."

"I know you don't, Sam," Jim replied with a gentle smile, nodding to Dean to let his brother go so he could help the boy out of the Impala then had to make a fast grab when both of Sam's legs seemed to buckle. "What's been going on, Dean?" he demanded, having dealt with both boys in varying stages of illness or injury and not recalling seeing Sam this weak or worn down before. "I know you got hurt…fried if I go by Caleb, and Jeff gave Sam a tip but…"

"Yeah, that tip took us face to face with a blind faith healer whole wife was working some heavy duty binding magic on an actual Reaper of death," Dean snorted, still sour on that whole deal which was made worse every time he thought of Layla's illness. "We saved the innocent but it doesn't feel like a win when I think of Layla's cancer and she could've been saved if we had left well enough alone or…"

"Or you could be or some other innocent person whose only crime was to not fit in Sue Ellen Le Grange's idea of a perfect person," Jim had actually gotten the story from Jefferson so he knew about the Reaper and the girl's terminal illness so it didn't shock him how Dean was feeling. He'd known that beneath the stoic and sarcastic exterior John's oldest carried emotions that had almost always been as deep if not more so than his brother.

Guessing he should've known that would be the Pastor's reply, Dean stepped up to steady his already off balance sibling before Sam's height and weight difference could knock both him and Jim to the cold ground. "He was coughing a little before that job and from what I can see he must've stopped sleeping after I was hurt," he steadied Sam while Jim got the door open then eyed the steps which he'd always hated maneuvering his brother up when sick only to see Jim point to the downstairs guest room.

"Okay, good thought," he mumbled, realizing he was tired when he hadn't even considered keeping Sam downstairs. "He's also been taking these again," Dean tossed the bottle of pills onto the dresser as he carefully eased his temporarily sleeping brother onto the bed while hearing the water begin to run in the adjoining bathroom and winced. "God, I hate this part."

"I know but we need him cool and he's been running that fever for too long to try to wait it out," Jim replied after he'd dumped two buckets of ice into the already cold water to step back into the room to see Dean kneeling beside the bed as if just watching Sam. "Dean? Why did Sam take these?"

The over the counter pills were less bothersome to him than if they'd been street drugs meant to keep a person awake but still Jim couldn't see Sam Winchester taking anything like that unless… "He got scared and manic and…"

"And needed to stay awake first to find a way to save me and then I guess to make sure I was alright," Dean vowed to seriously ground his smarter than this brother once he was awake and healthy again. "It's not the first time, Jim."

"Oh, I so don't think I want to hear this," the Pastor sighed, then went to work on undressing Sam from the heavy bulky clothes before trying the ice bath that from past experience probably would end up with bruises all around. "Tell me after you've showered and changed upstairs."

That suggestion had an instant negative reaction in Dean who was shaking his head even as his hand was closing over the one Sam had fisted on the bed. "Huh-uh, you know I don't leave Sammy when he's sick, Jim," he argued, unaware of how close to panic he was at the very thought of leaving his little brother in someone else's care…even if it was a long time friend like Jim Murphy. "Besides, he's gone all Sasquatch and could put you down in…ow, ow, ow…Jim, let go."

"I've been holding my own with people bigger than your brother since before you were a blink in John's eye, Dean," Jim returned firmly after he took a firm hold of the ear closest to him and tugging it like he'd done very infrequently when this young man had been a small boy. "Now get upstairs, take a shower, change into something clean and not wet, grab one of those sandwiches in the kitchen and then he can sit with Sam and tell me what the hell has been going on."

Hating to be bossed around by anyone, Dean accepted when he was outgunned and respected Jim enough to know that he was just trying to do what was best for him and Sam both so with a look that told Jim where Sam had learned that bitch face he slowly went to do as he'd been ordered.

"Yep, I see a lot of John in Dean's stubbornness," he told himself with a chuckle then prepared for the all out war that would happen as soon as Sam's fevered and achy body hit cold water.

The shower took no time at all since Dean was in a hurry to get back to Sam and Jim. He paused when deciding between his normal T-shirt and jeans and that hooded sweatshirt he'd been wearing while sick. Deciding to stick with the T-shirt and long sleeved button down flannel, Dean was sitting on the bed to tie his boots when his gaze fell on his phone and before he knew what his fingers were doing he found himself dialing a number he knew by heart.

"Dad…it's me. Look, I know Sammy called you about me…dying and well, I guess you can tell I got better. No need for a call or a card or anything," he heard the sarcasm in his own voice but ignored it while eyeing a photo of when he and Sam had been smaller and Sam still had a belief in their Dad. "Anyway, I know I called you in Lawrence before we went after what was in our old house…if I said we saw Mom's spirit would that earn at least a freakin' call-back? No? Anyway," he paused a second when he heard a shout, a crash and something breaking from downstairs and guessed Jim still had things under control since no weapons had been shot off yet.

"Sam got sick while trying to help me, Dad," Dean closed his eyes against the pictures of seeing his 6'4" baby brother curled on the back seat of the Impala like he would as a toddler. "He got scared and sick because I was hurt and he was alone…again. I don't care if you don't call me back, or if you won't let us find you but the least you could've done was call Sammy back to let him know that he wasn't alone in this…that we still had a Father who gave a damn and…ouch, I hope that wasn't Jim," he heard a louder noise this time. "We're with Pastor Jim in case you care to check in or if you're interested, Dad. I…I have to go look after Sammy now. Bye."

Tossing the phone aside with more force than he intended, Dean grabbed some stuff from Sam's duffel that he knew on instinct they'd need then headed downstairs just in time to grab his half clad, soaking wet and shaking baby brother before he made a run for the front door.

"Hey, Streak, where the hell're you going?" he knew this would happen if he wasn't around when Sam woke up in the water. Stepping around the fist that was aimed where his voice had been, Dean made a single grab to catch Sam around the shoulders and turn him back to the bedroom. "Where's Pastor Jim, Sammy?"

The fear and panic he'd woken up to had lessened the moment he heard Dean's voice but he still tensed when he laid down, latching onto his brother's arm. "Don't die, De'n?"

"Sammy, I told you I'm fine and I am," Dean tried to reassure his brother, looking up to see Jim wiping blood from his mouth. "Told you he's sneaky,"

"He learned from you so I know that," Jim countered, holding out some pills that he hoped would help. "You know this is more than just a cold, don't you?"

Feeling Sam shaking even as his body still burned with a fever that was close to scaring Dean, he slowly nodded while coaxing the medication down his sick and more than normally stubborn brother before moving to sit up against the headboard so he'd be close to Sam.

"I'm guessing he took too many of these babies at one time, has been running on fumes for days with probably little to no food on his stomach so he crashing hard," Dean lifted tired eyes to gaze at his friend. "Am I close?"

Pulling a chair closer to the bed, Jim examined the pills Sam had been taking to keep him awake. "If he's been taking these since the night you got hurt then yeah, he's probably in for some rough roads ahead but…you said this wasn't the first time."

"His second year at Stanford," Dean sighed, carding his fingers back through Sam's hair like he used to do when he'd been small and sick while thinking back. "The way I got the story…okay, the way Caleb got the story since he wouldn't let me near the little prick who fed the damn things to my baby brother, is that Sam was trying really hard to maintain his grades, keep a night job to pay for stuff he needed like…food, clothes, etc so when a really big test was coming up he went into manic overdrive,"

Leaning his head back, Dean could still see the mess he walked into. "I'd been slipping into Stanford to check up on him ever since he left but normally I'd go, leave some money in an envelope and split since I knew Dad would be pissed if he found out and probably so would Sam…but this time…this trip felt different," he opened one eye to look and see that Jim was watching him seriously. "He hadn't been to work in a couple days and his boss told me that when she'd last seen him Sam was really, really hyper. Then she told me about this guy in his dorm that would give the new kids speed to 'help 'em'."

"I see," Jim could also see the damage that probably would have ensued if Caleb hadn't been with Dean that trip. "So what happened?"

"I had Caleb with me since we'd been up in the hills working a case of something or the other so he went to find the pusher while I checked on Sam and…Jim, he was so manic and hyped by then that he couldn't sit still, he couldn't even talk straight…Hell, he barely knew who I was by that point. Then he collapsed and was out like a light for five days," Dean still could remember his panic every time Sam would shake in his sleep or fight things only he could see but what he remembered the most was holding his little brother so he didn't hurt himself or anyone else when he began coming down from the pills.

"All he wanted was to maintain his grades so he didn't lose his scholarship and have to go back to Dad, Jim. Sammy took on to much back then and got suckered into taking that crap to keep him awake so he could do it all…just like he did this time and I know…I goddamn know that he took those because he knew it was all on his shoulders. He's so scared to ask for help because Dad always bitched when you or Bobby had to be called that this time Sammy took all the fear, the guilt and doubts into himself and needed to stay awake. Now he's crashing again and I don't know what to do for him. I don't have all the goddamn answers, Jim. I never did but Sam always believed I did so…"

Finally hearing enough to know what was going on here, Jim moved to sit on the edge of the bed before he carefully laid a hand on a shoulder that had been given too much weight at too young an age. "You're his brother, Dean and as much as you need to look after Sam is how much he feels like he needs to be there for you," he remarked, having seen this many times when the boys had been small. "You don't have to have all the answers for him because no one has those but you just need to be here for him now, like you have been and like I know you will be because you are Sam's big brother.

"Taking pills to stay awake was a bad move but then I've seen you pull some stupid ones for him…some a lot more dangerous than just popping some pills or don't you think I know what you did when Sam was sixteen, Dean?" Jim Murphy knew he'd made his point the moment he caught that jaw muscle on Dean's face twitch. "You knew Caleb could've been there within an hour but you still went by yourself and got the shit kicked out of you before John and Bobby got there."

Tensing at the merest mention of that time while Sam was sleeping next to him, Dean fought not to make a fist because he did remember that time but he still wouldn't call it stupid. He still called it 'Dean Winchester's Rule #1-mess with Sam and lose a damn lung'.

"He was a sixteen year old naïve innocent kid who got tricked into going to a damn party by some pretty girl looking to make time with her college boyfriend," Dean threw back, keeping his voice pitched low as to not wake his brother but the ragged emotion could still be heard as he remembered every vivid detail of that night. "Six hotshot little prep boys drugged my little brother, let their buddies do whatever the hell they wanted to him, beat him before taking him out to the middle of no where and leaving him to die of exposure or worse and the only way I found out is because the girl got panicked and called. It wasn't stupid, Jim. Those little bastards touched my brother and yeah I took a beating by going after them but by God I sent at least three to the ER."

Watching Dean carefully for a moment, Jim smiled slowly then squeezed the shoulder under his hand. "John never found out the full story, did he?" he knew the answer even before he was shot Dean's infamous smirk. "No, I guess he didn't. You only gave him bits and pieces to explain the injuries and why you went postal on a few town punks. You knew Sam would never want John to know."

"Dad and Sam were usually fighting pretty heavy back then so if Dad would've known how bad he was hurt and why then all he would've seen would be that Sam's lack of training, lack of dedication to learning how to fight back let him be hurt…so no, sir. I lied to Dad then took Sammy with me when Caleb and I went hunting a few States over," Dean shrugged, feeling Sam tense and begin to murmur in his sleep which was a sure sign that his next few hours would be a massive fight to keep the kid in bed and quiet until he got the pills and the fever out of his system. "Defending Sam is never a bad move in my book."

"No, and saving you would never be on in Sam's," Jim replied, pulling the quilt up to cover the now shivering younger man. "I'll leave you alone but try to sleep, Dean cause it won't help Sam to wake up and find you down again," he cautioned then left the brothers alone while he went to begin placing a few phone calls of his own.

Reaching for his leather jacket to lay over the quilt, Dean smiled the one true smile he normally only gave when he knew no one was around to see it or it was just him and Sam. He watched his brother's fingers slowly reach to pull the battered jacket that had originally belonged to their Dad and then to Dean up until he could hold it as if seeking comfort in the leather and the memories it offered.

Dean knew he needed to sleep because while his heart might be healed he still felt like crap and the constant worry over Sam was dragging him down fast which was something he knew Pastor Jim was right about. Sam needed him healthy, not sick.

"Go to sleep, Sammy," he murmured, lightly carding his fingers through Sam's shaggy hair and debated with himself over bugging Sam about a haircut then decided not to…unless it got too much longer. "You did your job and you pulled me through now let your awesome big brother do his and I'll get you over this," Dean whispered, shifting on the bed so he could still sit with his back to the headboard but Sam would have the room to flip, flop and toss like he always did when sick.

Looking down at Sam to see some color slowly was returning, Dean hoped that was a good sign and not a sign that his brother's fever was too high again. He let out a shaky breath after running the back of his hand over Sam's forehead and only felt a mild fever instead of the burning one that he'd had earlier.

"Sam, I know you won't hear this so maybe I won't have to call do over when you're better but…when I said that I didn't want to hunt for Dad by myself…I meant that. I mean, I know it was selfish on my part to take you away from the one thing you'd fought to achieve for the four years that you'd been away but…I missed my pain in the ass little brother and while I still promise that we will find Dad and Jessica's killer…I just want to say that I'm proud of you, Sammy," he spoke softly, keeping a hand on the back of Sam's neck like he would years ago and chuckled when his little brother mumbled in his sleep. "You are an awesome little brother and I'm thankful to have you even if you are annoying, way too organized, way into too much health food and a music critic and…I love you."

Confident that Sam slept through that admission and knowing that after being sick like this his brother normally had the memory of an ant and so wouldn't even remember Dean baring his soul in that exchange as he pulled the blanket up one final time before letting himself relax into sleep, knowing they were safe and his brother would be fine once he woke up.

Sometime later since getting woke up out of too sound of a sleep always screwed with his head, Dean heard his name shouted and was awake a second later.

"Dean!"

The pure tone of confused panic tore through his heart as he forced sleep out of bleary green eyes to look around quickly to find… "Sammy?" off the bed, Dean was on the floor next to where Sam was struggling to both breath, move, and not choke all at the time. "Sam, what the…" the words died off the moment he looked down at the hand that he'd instinctively used to brush soaking wet hair out of Sam's eyes with and saw red.

Looking down at the floor, Dean saw more blood then lunged to grab for his brother just as the boy seemed to fall forward and he noticed the blood on his face and every calm and rational thought in Dean's head flew right out of the window.

"Pastor Jim!" the shout came even as he was trying to get Sam laid down flat only to have the boy strain to hold on to him like a lifeline when another violent round of dry heaving came but the only thing he threw up was blood. "Jim! Sam's…Sammy, don't do this to me. You hang on because you are not hurt this bad to be bleeding inside so…" he stopped talking when he realized the tight grip around his wrist had relaxed but as he looked closer the panic that had been building shot to overwhelming when he didn't see the rise and fall of Sam's chest or… "Sammy!"

**TBC**

**Author Note: **_ I'll duck now and swear the end will be up soon. Trust me because when have you known me to write a death fic? A close to it but always pulled back by the seat of their pants fic but never a full blown death fic._


	3. Chapter 3

**Thankful For a Brother Like You**

**Chapter 3**

**Five Days Later:**

Jim Murphy had dealt with a lot of things in his life as both a Pastor and a hunter but if he was honest with himself the past five days had been the hardest he'd seen in a long while.

Five days ago he'd believed that things would settle down once Sam Winchester was allowed to rest and given correct medication for the illness he'd picked up. He had believed that he could leave the brothers alone so he could work on the coming Sunday sermon and leave a couple messages on the two numbers he still had for John Winchester.

He had believed that up until a few hours later when he heard Dean shouting for him and by the time he got to the boys he saw that his beliefs were wrong.

That was five days ago and now as evening crept closer he finally chose to approach the older Winchester who had been standing on the small dock by the lakeside cabin for the past few hours, which was actually the first time Dean had been outside since he'd found his younger brother struggling to breathe and apparently coughing up blood.

"Dean? It's going to get colder now. Don't you think you should come in and…"

"Y'know, there are days that I hate this life," this quietly made admission made the older man blink but he thought he understood where the boy was coming from. "I mean, I know that what we do, the things we hunt save people and saves lives but…there are times when I wish it wasn't my life. I wish my Mom was still alive, that the damn fire hadn't happened and that Dad never became obsessed with finding the thing that killed her. I wish that he hadn't dragged me and Sam all over the goddamn country with him while he did hunt it and I wish…"

"Do you wish Sam was never born or that he'd died instead of your Mom?" Jim saw the change in posture and was prepared to block the fist that he suspected would shoot out but only saw a small but sad smile come over Dean's rugged face as he stared at something he'd been holding.

Feeling the edge of temper spark at the words spoken, Dean blew out a shaky breath because he knew he was still too raw for much more chick flickery as he'd be prone to say if he wasn't exhausted. "No, and that's what no one who knows the full story about us has ever understood," he began quietly, finally turning to face the older hunter while holding his hand out to show the rubbery black band that matched the one he wore…Sam's band. "I never held it against Sammy that Mom died in his nursery. I never once blamed him or hated him or wished that he wasn't my brother because Sammy was the only kid I would have ever wanted for that job. I've been more than thankful that he was my brother," fingers closing around the band he still recalled taking it off of Sam before Jim kicked him out of the bedroom the other night. "He's been my pain in the ass little brother from the very moment Mom told me she was having a baby and he'll always be that…no matter what."

Knowing that showing true emotions had never been easy for Dean, Jim remained quiet but cautious since he was more than aware of how fast Dean's emotions could turn dark. "This wasn't your fault, Dean," he remarked but the bitter chuckle he heard told him that wouldn't be easily believed.

" 'Take care of Sammy, Dean. Watch after your little brother, Dean,'" he quoted the two things he'd grown up hearing from his Dad while thinking back to every time in his life that he'd done that and failed. "I raised Sam, Pastor Jim, not Dad. I never once begrudged Sammy the life he wanted, in fact I fought to make sure he got the chance to have the normal life and then I screw up and drag him back into it.

"I was selfish and tired of it all so when Dad dropped out of sight this time I went to Stanford to get Sam and it cost him because if I had left well enough alone, if I'd left him alone maybe he'd be in Law School by now and still able to have a future with his dream girl," Dean finally turned to face Jim fully and the moon shining down showed the tears that Jim knew the boy wouldn't let fall. "I was raised by a former Marine who drilled everything I know into my head and yet I stood in a puddle of water while using a damn taser. I fried myself and then left Sam alone to cope when I knew that he couldn't because Sammy never handled it when I was hurt or sick and you know that."

Jim couldn't deny that since he'd seen how Sam reacted one time to an injury his brother suffered but also knew that John hadn't helped that situation any. "Sam's not twelve or sixteen anymore, Dean. He's twenty-two and grown up. Yes, Sam still sees you as the invincible big brother who should never be able to be hurt but no one has that ability. Everyone's human…including you and no matter how hard you try or how much you want to… you can't keep him in a bubble. Sam's going to fall and get hurt once and awhile…and so will you because you're not Superman."

"Nah, always told Sammy I was more in line with Batman," Dean's smile was shaky but stronger even though he dreaded going back inside the cabin. "I just wanted him safe. He's still jumpy after that damn 'shifter took my form and said some crap to him but I never held it against Sam that he went to college while I stayed with Dad. Hell, I gave up…"

"Sam doesn't know what you gave up so he could go to school, does he, Dean?" the Pastor doubted it but got his answer by the absent one shouldered shrug. "You never told Sam the real reason you dropped out of school and he doesn't know what else you passed up for…Dean…"

Skipping a final stone across the water, Dean ran the band through his fingers a final time before slipping into the pocket of his jeans since his leather jacket was still inside with… "Only Caleb knows about the trade school thing and no, both Dad and Sam still think I dropped out because of my grades and missing transcripts. Better to believe that than to have let Sam feel guilty because if you think I hold guilt…that kid's the King of it."

Jim knew that well enough since he'd seen both of John's boys carry guilt for one thing or another which was something else he planned on bringing up to their Father…the first time he got the man to pick up a phone. Right then he had to finish picking up the pieces of this mess. "Dean, you can't stay out here all night. You need to see…"

"Yeah, I know," the young hunter whispered while wishing for a bottle of Jack Daniels to numb this pain but finally nodded as he steeled himself for what was to come. "Jim? Have…have you talked to Dad?"

"Not in awhile," Jim admitted, staying close as he and Dean took the path back up to his place. "I know he said he was on to something big but wouldn't say anything else. You did everything you could've, Dean. You've always done what John wanted. Now it's time you start doing what's best for you…and for Sam."

"If I'd done what was best for Sam, Sir…I would've taken him and split when he was sixteen," Dean replied bitterly, stepping into the warm house but barely felt the temperature change as he stared at the closed door to the downstairs guest room before reaching for the handle. "What was best for Sammy was if I'd've left him the hell alone."

Jim waited until he heard the door click closed to release the breath he'd been holding. "No, son, because that wouldn't have been right for either of you."

Stepping into the bedroom, Dean's tired eyes immediately landed on the repacked duffel bags since he'd spent all morning putting things back as they had been or as close to it as he could get considering things. Running his hand over Sam's he felt his throat tighten as he thought back five days to the pure panic he'd felt when he spotted the blood and how white Sam had been as he struggled to get air into straining lungs.

For Dean, the very thought of losing his little brother was like losing a piece of himself so when Jim had taken a look at the situation and forced Dean out until he could get a better handle on what had happened it seemed like every part of their childhood had flashed in front of him.

He remembered the first time his Mom had let him hold his newly brought home chubby but always happy baby brother, he remembered the fear he'd felt while protecting Sam the night of the fire, he saw his brother the first time he walked, or spoke his first words or…

"_Sonuvabitch_," he whispered, feeling his eyes burn as tears once again threatened to come but quickly slashed them away as he heard a sound from behind him. "I wouldn't even advise you trying it." he spoke while coughing to try to cover the slight shake to his voice or the huskiness of it from emotions he did not want to show right then.

The bed squeaked but no sound from the floorboards were heard. "How long?"

"How long what?" Dean asked tightly, knowing his voice was deeper and more harsh than he meant but he was still riding on emotions and fears that he hadn't gotten over yet and could only hope it was taken as such. "Are you grounded? Try a century times infinity, little brother."

"I kind of meant how long was I out but I guess by that it must've been awhile," Sam Winchester's hazel eyes were still shadowed by exhaustion but they weren't as glassy or wide as they had been the last time his brother had seen them open.

Sam's memories were spotty at best. He remembered his brother being hurt, he remembered the Le Grange's and the Reaper and he briefly recalled going to the laundry then it all fades for him with bits and pieces of memory coming until he came to with his worried brother sitting next to him while Jim Murphy complained about the bullheadedness of Winchesters.

"You want the time from when you crashed at that laundry or when you tried to take my head off the first time in the Impala or any of the times here at Pastor Jim's after you decided to scare fifty years off my life?" Dean tossed back, still keeping his back to his brother while he made himself busy finishing folding the last of their things before giving up, throwing the shirt down to whirl toward the back. "You scared the shit outta me, Sammy."

Still remembering his panic at seeing Sam so lifeless and choking, Dean had also flashed on every other time his brother had ever been hurt and his own exhaustion and injuries nearly took Dean down as well.

"Ignoring the fact that you used those goddamn pills to stay awake again, forgetting the fact you knew you were getting sick and neglected to tell me, the fact that I thought you were choking on your own blood five nights ago did not make me a very happy big brother," Dean knew he needed to calm down even before he caught the way Sam tensed when he neared the bed. "Damn it," he whispered, going to step back until he could level things off only to feel tentative fingers grip his wrist in a familiar move. "Why?"

It didn't take a genuis to guess what that question was in reference to since Pastor Jim had already given one lecture on his rather stupid use of the pills to help keep him awake. Sam knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean jumped on him but sudden weariness, the gruffer tone warned him that something had happened to scare Dean so instead of the light answer that he would've given Sam tightened his fingers until finally his brother sat on the edge of the bed.

"I needed to stay awake so I could find someone, something to help save you," he began quietly, lashes hiding hazel eyes that he knew would be shining with tears he didn't want Dean to cope with on top of everything else. "I had to do that because you're always looking out for me and I…I couldn't lose you, Dean. Not like that, not on top of losing Jess. You're my brother and I…" he broke off before saying the words he knew would make his brother bolt. "I'd taken pills before…in school and…"

"And nearly killed yourself then too," Dean growled, this time it was his turn to grasp the retreating arm as Sam went to pull away at his mention of Stanford. "You don't remember that time, do you, Sam?"

Frowning, Sam recalled a friend in the dorm getting him something to stay awake while he studied for exams and worked. He recalled taking them and knowing when something was wrong because it had been getting hard to concentrate, to breathe and he thought he'd heard his brother talking to him…well, yelling some of the time but he'd chalked that up to wistful thinking since he knew Dean hadn't been… "You were there?"

"You're not fun when you're sick, Sam so you were really a handful while stoned outta your head on pep pills and sick," Dean rolled his eyes but gripped Sam's wrist tighter to hold him still while using his other hand to reach around and grip his brother's neck like he would when he'd been small and Dean needed to make a point. "I stayed with you, I stayed for you until I knew you were safe enough to be left alone and then I stayed around until I was sure you were back on your feet."

"Well, that explains why Freddy avoided me from then on," Sam mused, blinking when he felt the fingers on his neck squeeze gently until he lifted his eyes to meet firm green ones. "Dean, did you…"

Snorting, Dean let go but didn't move away as he waved a hand. "Hell, no. Caleb beat the shit outta that geek," he shrugged, scowling. "He wouldn't let me near the son of a bitch. You know I will break you if I ever see you taking those again, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam yawned, still feeling sore from the other night when he'd woken up too fast, confused to where he was at and tripped. Hitting his nose and side of his face on the table by the bathroom he fallen and in his panic, began to cough which brought up the remaining pills and infection that had been in him.

It had been the nosebleed dripping onto the floor that had sent his older brother into such a panic but only Jim Murphy learned that after he'd forced Dean out so he could check on Sam himself. Then with most of the pills out, his fever coming down and a small understanding of where he was and where his brother was, Sam had fallen to sleep for the next few days which, as he'd come to learn later, was when Dean fell apart.

"I'm…sorry," he whispered, seeing his brother's frown but blinked when he felt the band go back around his wrist since Jim had told him that he'd removed it before the first ice bath. "I…just wanted to help you. I didn't mean to…cause all this…"

Staring at his hands while considering his next move it was what Sam wasn't saying and the way his already soft voice dropped that made up his mind when he moved quickly to pull his still emotionally and physically exhausted little brother into a hard hug, something that Dean had wanted to do from the moment the kid first opened his eyes again earlier that morning.

"I know, Sammy, I know," he murmured, hearing a soft sob and letting his fingers card through Sam's hair while deciding it was time to mention that his brother needed a haircut. "Though you are still so grounded for this stunt," Dean gave the hug another moment because he knew his brother and knew Sam would fall back to sleep soon.

"Too old to be grounded, De'n," Sam mumbled, knowing he'd hear about this for awhile but was still too relieved that Dean was alive and with him to care at the moment. " 'Sides, Pastor Jim said you do…stunts too so…"

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean decided to get off that subject for the moment then smiled as he watched knowingly as his 6'4" little brother flopped onto his stomach like he knew Sam did when sick, drunk, or scared. "You know I can't promise not to…"

Big, watery hazel colored puppy dog eyes shined up at Dean and he felt the words drying up as he laid a gentle hand on a shoulder that still shook slightly as Sam stared up at him with the same open innocence and trust that he'd always given his brother. "Don't leave…like Dad," he whispered, moving a hand blindly until he found the firm grip of the hand that Sam instinctively knew would always been there for him. "Don' want to be alone, De'n."

"You…you won't be alone, Sammy," Dean promised, giving up on trying to be the reasonable one since he knew he'd move heaven and hell if it meant protecting Sam from whatever threat might come. "Hey, didn't I tell you that nothing bad would happen to you while I was around? Though if you caused me to scratch my car I am so ending you, baby brother."

A small laugh ended on a hiccup as Sam turned his face into the pillow to fall back to sleep, confident that he was safe for the moment and that Dean would be there when he woke up.

"I'll never leave you, Sammy," Dean whispered the promise he remembered making the night his brother was sixteen and hurt. He just hoped that he could keep it better than he had that time.

Three days later, Jim Murphy watched the trunk of the Impala close with a well known thud before eyeing the shaggy head that was leaning against the passenger side window. "You know that you and Sam can stay until you're both well, Dean," he repeated the same offer that he'd been trying the last day or so to get one of the boys to accept. "Sam's still sick and you're…"

"I'm fine enough that I can take care of Sam now that it's just a simple cold and some sleep deprivation I'm dealing with," Dean returned, grateful for the offer but knowing that Sam was getting edgy with being in one place for so long because they couldn't be certain if another of his visions would hit and neither Winchester was ready for anyone else, even a long time friend, to know about those.

Glancing into the Impala to see that Sam seemed to be sleeping but knowing his brother too well to buy that, Dean smiled before accepting the offered hand. "I appreciate you helping me with him, Pastor Jim," he coughed, feeling as awkward as he had as a teenager when needing to accept help from someone. "We'll be okay now but if you happen to hear from Dad…" he drew off, uncertain what he wanted to say in that area.

"Oh, I know what I'll say to John if I hear from him, Dean," Jim assured him, very clear on that topic since he'd seen John do this crap to the boys too often. "Just promise me that you'll take care of yourself…as well as your brother?"

"Yes, Sir," Dean accepted the older man's concern as just Jim's concern for them. "Thanks," he added before getting into the car and pulling away. "You okay?" he asked after awhile, knowing Sam was sleeping.

A brief pause was heard before Sam nodded, clearly still tired but better than he had been. "Do you think Dad's getting our messages, Dean?" he asked softly, not missing the way his brother's fingers tightened on the wheel. "I mean, if he had gotten mine about you…I mean…he'd've come for you, right?"

Knowing that Sam need an answer even if it was one that Dean didn't want to give or accept, he bit his lip while watching the road then noticed the way Sam was picking at the material of his jeans. A tell that his little brother was upset and so Dean did what he always did when Sam was small and asking questions about their Dad…he lied.

"No, probably not, Sammy," he shrugged, reaching for the box of cassette tapes to hand it to his brother to pick one. "His phone might be turned off or broke. He would've called you back so let it go. We'll do what it is that we do best and…one day…one day we'll find Dad. Now, pick a tape…bitch."

"Jerk," Sam smiled while rolling his eyes at the tapes before choosing one and knowing without even seeing Dean's face that he was smiling the one rare smile that Sam knew meant things were good between them. "Dean, we really need to…"

"House rules, Sammy," Dean warned then laughed with the mutter he got in return while turning up the music only until he felt Sam shift more against the door and knew this time his brother had fallen asleep fully. "Family business, Sammy," he whispered, reaching over with one hand to lay his jacket over his sleeping brother and left it there a moment until he felt Sam relax fully. "Saving people. That's what we do and what I do is always take care of the little brother that I will always be thankful that I have."

Dean's eyes returned to the road while keeping one hand one Sam's shoulder because he knew at this stage of illness his brother was still prone to bad dreams and was still insecure so as AC/DC played on the stereo, he let himself relax for the first time in weeks.

Content that he was healthy or healing and that Sam would be fine once he got over this latest set back, Dean knew things were good and he'd keep them that way…no matter who he had to kill to do it.

**The End**

**Author Note: **_See? I said no death fic, lol. Thanks for reading this and I hope everyone enjoyed it. _


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